


The Both of Us

by whatshisface



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatshisface/pseuds/whatshisface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Helena and Chris get along, and that's good enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Both of Us

**Author's Note:**

> seriously. it is what it is.

They meet in a cemetery, where the words ‘B.O.W.’ and ‘bioterrorism’ are only things heard on the news, whispers that don’t reach this land. Helena is visiting Deborah’s grave, and Chris is.. Chris is doing something she doesn’t know about. It’s not an immediate notice, but she does recognize him. She spots him across the way because she knows there was a woman standing at that same rock in his place. She hadn’t paid much attention, but the details rush back when she thinks on it, curious. It was likely someone’s wife, judging from her age and the way she had placed flowers across the grave, held back tears. The stranger’s wife kissed the stone before she took her leave, and she didn’t say anything else.

All that Helena does is watch from the corner of her eye, with a strange fascination.

Chris steps in when the woman is gone, and he talks to the slab about things after a long pause. Things like “your boy did good”, and “I should have done more”. The name engraved on front reads ‘Daniel Rose’, and she can’t help but feel that she knows that man, that she was responsible for his death too. (how many people does that make, and what kind of sick coincidence would that be?)

She stops intruding upon his privacy so she can look at Deborah’s tombstone, and her chest tightens at how she didn’t have a body to bury, at how there was no funeral procession, and how everything happened too fast for her to even say ‘wait, don’t go.’ She says a prayer (because her baby sister believed in these things and Helena wants to believe that she’s somewhere better), lingers there for a few more moments before straightening up, turning to go.

It’s a change of plans though, because there’s Chris Redfield, waiting for her. She doesn’t say anything at first, only watches him and the details become a focus. The lines in his face are heavy and his eyes are sunken in as he looks towards her. He reminds her of Leon: experienced, worn out by everything that’s happened, with eyes that have seen more than she hopes to never encounter. While Helena can hope, there’s a sinking feeling that she won’t be as lucky, because she’s read the reports, and everyone starts young. (some of them don’t even get to be anything past that)

Lucky to be here, maybe. Cursed is a better word — it fits the way a pistol does in her hand, like it belongs there and always has. Finally she moves, lets out a sigh and keeps a hand on her hip before she greets him.

“Chris.” He returns the motion, clear his throat as if that’ll help clear whatever standing they’re on with one another.

The man scratches the back of his head, makes an attempt to shake off whatever demons he has on his back, and maybe he’s standing straighter, but Helena doesn’t think he’s completely free of whatever it is that lingers behind him.

“Helena.” A pause, and she waits, makes no other movement. “Do you.. have time?”

Maybe she should say no, but she nods. They get a bite to eat, but they do more talking than anything else. They both get steak.

There are things no one should have to learn about Chris Redfield. From the men he’s lost, to the partners he’s had, the guy’s life is a whirlwind and everyone who’s tried to hold on has their own set of scars, or they got thrown off and fell. She doesn’t hold back for certain topics and sometimes she steps where she’s not supposed to (the grave is strike one for her) and sometimes he does the same (Deborah is his first and last warning). They learn more about one another than she’d expect, including their weakness for getting caught up in the moment and their tendency to wind up in life and death situations.

“You’ve had a gun at your face - twice?” He delivers a sheepish look and shrugs.

“And you’ve avoided being hit in the face with a piece of a train, we’re even.” In turn she rolls her eyes, goes back to nursing her beer while Chris stays sober, his reasons his own. One way or another, it’s calming, almost nice in a sick way. It’s having someone to relate to, and it scares Helena, because how long will it be until she’s the one looking around, making sure the exits are safe and that she’s ready *just in case*?

Security is one thing, but the B.S.A.A. is another. The weight is different, the feel is different, the loss is.. almost the same, because hell if Piers wasn’t something close to Chris, not with what she saw at that funeral (and it leaves a bitter taste in Helena’s mouth to admit that he got one and she didn’t), when he couldn’t even *finish* saying his piece.

Helena wants to leave it all in Chris’s hands, in Leon’s hands, for them to take the lead and clear the way, make sure that everything gets back to normal one day so there won’t be another outbreak, another disaster, so there won’t be more Deborahs, more recruits to take up empty spots, but there’s the inevitable, there’s the fact that it will happen and one day she’ll be the one calling the shots, if she isn't already a part of it. For a moment she leans towards Chris’s side, stays for a breath but then she’s pulling back without a word, keeping composure. 

“Thank you.” In turn he gets a hand on her back for a pat that’s more sympathetic than reassuring. He’s here for now, and she knows it. 

Her shoulders roll, and she knocks her bottle against his glass. “Thank yourself.” 

Maybe he never will.


End file.
